


Firewood

by Morethancupcake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's not that Castiel doesn't like Christmas."</p><p>Castiel and his roommate, Dean, decide to try and celebrate Christmas, this year. It doesn't go exactly as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firewood

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays to you all :)

It's not that Castiel doesn't like Christmas.

If anything, he likes it too much. He likes the anticipation. He likes to shop, months ahead, and find the perfect gift. He likes the sudden change; people forgetting Halloween and its glorious pumpkins, to go straight into pine trees and cinnamon cookies. He likes the singing, and the ridiculous sweaters. He likes the tiny tree in the florist window he always wants to get, and he likes the way everyone looks happy, hopeful.

There was no tree in the old Novak house. 

He remembers asking for one, he had been five, maybe six, asking Michael if they could have a proper tree, for Santa. He remembers Michael's arms, and his smile. He remembers how his big brother would carry him everywhere, whenever he would finally be home for the holidays. Cas remembers eating from the same plate, and then falling asleep in Michael's room, listening to his big brother's breathing next to him.

Castiel always misses his big brother, but he misses him even more during the holidays. 

Castiel isn't five anymore.

 

"Hey Cas," Castiel smiles, always, when Dean opens the door. They're a weird pair. Dean is loud, and obnoxious, most of the time. He laughs a lot, and is irreverent, and sometimes mean."I got us something on the way. You think you could make pasta?" But Dean, his Dean, is more than that. He's more than the guy people think they know. 

Dean stops on his way back to buy Castiel's favorite pasta sauce, and he smiles, bright and warm, when Castiel thanks him. 

 

They're friends.  
Dean is his Sun, he's the center of his little universe, but friend, yes, it's a world Castiel can use. 

They live together, sharing the little appartment with two small rooms and not enough light. They have some plants, and a fish, and the stray cat who stops by, sometimes, to sleep on Dean's feet when he's smoking at their window. It's not much, but it's theirs.

 

This year, for the first time in many years, Castiel knows he won't be alone for Christmas. And it's enough for him. He's not five anymore, he doesn't dream of a room filled with family and warmth. He doesn't dream, because Dean sits next to him, when the night is quiet, and sometimes his arm will brush his. He doesn't dream, because Dean doesn't bring anyone home, he doesn't come back from somewhere in the early morning, smelling like sweat and perfume. 

Sometimes, they fall asleep on the couch, and when he wakes up, Dean watches him with a smile Castiel doesn't understand, but wants to keep watching forever.

 

Castiel starts slowly. He buys a candle. He skips lunch, and walks into a big store, the kind of place his aunt would love. It smells this distinct brand of expensive and snobbish, and the clerk is too sweet and too polite. 

The candle smells like firewood, and it costs a small fortune. On the phone, Gabriel approves, and sends him a huge box of his chocolates to celebrate.

Candle and chocolate. It's just the end of November.

 

The presents are wrapped, already, it's not about them. Castiel doesn't enjoy Christmas shopping, unless it's like this, frivolous. Something he feels he's not allowed to do.

It's cold, and Dean needs new gloves. They sleep in the back of Castiel's drawer, good leather and cachemere. Dean will blush, and make fun of him, for spending so much on him. Castiel knows it's probably silly, for them to still share this place when they obviously can afford something more, something better, something alone. It's not about that either. 

Home is warm, and cosy. Dean is back early on Friday, and he makes them mulled wine, with a batch of cookies, his mother's recipe. They eat Gabriel's truffles, and laugh at the ridiculous stories Dean is always bringing home. And Castiel, Castiel who isn't five anymore, who doesn't dream, Castiel hopes.

 

Dean brings in two advent calendars, blue and green. He blushes, and starts to joke, and busies himself in the kitchen.

"It'll be funny, I mean, you don't have to..."

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel fingers run on the edge of the green one, his favorite. "I never had one, before," he adds, and Dean stops for a second, eyes searching his.

"Yeah... me neither."

"Good." 

This smile, they share. 

 

Dean gets them movies, to watch. Castiel never heard of them, but he curls on their couch with a mug of tea, and he laughs with Dean. He pretends not to cry too. It's very late into Saturday night when they stop, and Castiel tries not to notice Dean's arms around him, and his breath, close, so close. 

"It's nice," it's just a whisper. "You and me, and the movies. It's nice." 

 

Castiel buys sparkling wine. He buys more chocolate, too. And then he buys clementines, because of the smell.  
Dean buys them cakes. A multitude of candles, with ridiculous names like Christmas Baking, and Cinnamon Swirl. He buys a small poinsettia in a ceramic pot.

The candles cast a warm glow, and Dean's eyes are like liquid amber.

"We should always have candles around." he says one evening, when they're reluctantly getting ready to sleep. He's looking at Castiel, and it's odd, it's like something is hurting in his chest, when Dean smiles at him. 

"What ?" 

Dean doesn't answer. Castiel sleeps in his bed, alone, and wishes for Friday night, and falling asleep on the couch.

 

They're sitting in front of the TV when Sam calls. Castiel knows it's Sam, because Dean fixes his eyes on his phone for a couple of seconds. Castiel watches him go to his room, and close the door. 

The movie is about love, he thinks, and family. All Castiel can think about is Dean, on the other side of the door, talking to his brother for the first time in years.

 

Dean is happy, and the dark butterflies are chased away by his little laugh, when he sits down on Castiel's bed. 

"Is everything alright ?" 

"Yeah. Yeah. Everything fine, don't worry. Sammy just..." Dean laughs again, it's maybe too nervous, too raw. "He just wanted to talk to me, that's all." Castiel reaches for his hand. "It only took him five years, uh ?"

"Are you alright ?" 

Dean sleeps next to him, in his bed. It's a fantastic event, it's... amazing. Dean gets under the covers, and his feet are cold. He puts his head on Castiel's shoulder, and together, they sleep.

 

He's thinking about fragile ornaments, glass and gold, when everything in his mind shatters.

"Sammy wants me to come for Christmas." Dean speaks slowly, too slowly for it to be innocent. He's pushing around the noddles on his plate, eyes glued on the coffee table. "It's not that far, I could go right after work, and be there for Christmas Eve. Amelia wants me to spend a few days, meet the family and everything." Castiel doesn't say a word, he isn't sure what Dean wants him to say. "Can you imagine it ? Me, in the middle of it all ?"

Inside his head, five years old Castiel speaks, his voice too loud and too clear. "It's good you didn't get a tree, after all." 

Castiel smiles. He's not five anymore. He takes a sip of his water, and looks at Dean, who's lost and scared, on the other side of their tiny table. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Dean. Of course you'll have a wonderful time."

 

Dean comes to his room, that night. It's too dark, and Castiel is too raw. Dean whispers his name once, twice. Castiel pretends to sleep.

 

Castiel forgets his advent calendar. Dean tells him. He mentions it when Castiel is leaving for work. "You can have them, if you want, I don't mind." Dean looks sad, but he says nothing. Dean puts the little chocolates in a little saucer, and they stay untouched, on their kitchen table.

He boxes the sparkling wine, and sends it to Gabriel. The firewood candle moves to his desk. From his bed, he can still smell it, it's faint, but it doesn't smell like Christmas anymore, just like hopes. 

 

It's weird now, between them, and he isn't sure how to change it. Dean doesn't talk much, because Castiel knows all he wants to talk about is Christmas, because he's insecure, and a little scared. Castiel asks, because he wants to know, he wants to see Dean happy, and laughing. Dean talks about Mary's apple pie they're going to bake, and about Amelia's family. He talks about their future trip to the the lake for some ice skating, and about the party.

"Amelia wants me to meet her friends," he says one night, giggling after too much mulled wine. "She wants me to meet a nice girl, and settle down." Castiel isn't that good at lying, so he says nothing. "Hey, hey no, it's not like that." Dean is drunk, and a little clumsy. He comes to Castiel's bed, and falls asleep on his shoulder, his breath smelling like orange and spices.

In the morning, he doesn't let go, and frowns, eyes stuck on Castiel's shirt. "You could come with me. If they don't have enough room for two, I could always find us a motel, or something."

Castiel knows how it feels, to feel like a stanger in someone else's family. He remembers Balthazar's parents, very nice and charming. He remembers Gabriel's wife and their kids. He remembers how it feels, to feel lonely surrounded by love. He isn't ready to be Dean's best friend, and to see him smile at beautiful girls.

"I'll probably work late, Dean. Don't worry about me." He thinks Dean is going to kiss him, when he adds, trying to smile. "It's hardly my first Christmas alone. I don't mind." 

 

Before leaving for work, he brushes Dean's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry." Dean doesn't speak to him that day. Castiel isn't sure why. 

 

Dean drinks a little more. He doesn't make mulled wine, and goes straight for the whiskey they keep. Castiel reads on the couch, as usual, but the air is heavy between them. 

"It's not like I can..." Dean coughs. "You got to understand... I'm not."

"I know, Dean." Castiel keeps his eyes on his reader, and the words are blurred. "I know."

 

Dean goes back to his room. Castiel sleeps. In the morning, he takes the little saucer and covers it with cling film. People in his office are smiling, happy. They stop to chat, and have a sweet. They bring him little gifts, small nothings that make him smile. Everyone is going home early, it's Christmas Eve, after all. Castiel shares some hot chocolate with the cleaning crew, and is the last to leave.

 

He makes himself a cup of Earl Grey, with sugar and milk, his favorite. He puts on his favorite sweater, the one with a hole at his elbow, but still very soft. Dean doesn't call, and Castiel turns off his phone to not be reminded. He drinks slowly, still lost in his book. Christmas Eve is cold, and a little boring. Dean doesn't call, and Castiel goes to sleep.

 

He wakes up slowly, because he's cold, and something, somehow, is wrong.

Outside, it's snowing. 

Dean is sitting on his bed.

 

"I told Sammy about you." 

"Dean ?" Castiel reaches for the lamp, and for his glasses. Dean is here, still wearing his jacket. He's cold, even with the small distance between them, Castiel can feel it. "What are you doing here ?"

"I told Sammy about you." Dean looks at him like he's begging, like Castiel can do something for him, and really, Castiel is ready to do anything for the heavy frown to disappear, for Dean to smile again. Dean studies him for a while. "I told him I was in love with you."

"Oh."

 

Castiel isn't five anymore. He doesn't believe in fairy tales. He can't believe in them. He helps Dean out of the heavy leather, and into soft sweats and fleece socks. He puts him into his bed, and even gives him a hot bottle. He wonders, for a minute, if he should take the couch, when Dean's hands grabs his wrists, his fingers strong but soft.

Castiel isn't five, but he gets into bed, and curls up against Dean, their noses almost touching. 

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. About what I said. So I called Sammy on the road."

"And you came back." Castiel pushes his glasses back on his nose, and it makes Dean smile. Dean likes his glasses, for some obscure reason. 

"You're not alone, Cas. You're not supposed to be alone, and to be used to it." Dean is close, so close, and their lips are almost touching. Castiel thinks they're probably too old to act like teenagers, but it feels safe, here. 

"You came back."

When Dean finally kisses him, Castiel closes his eyes, and he feels tears escaping him. Dean kisses him like he wants to devour him, like he wants to hide inside of him. Castiel lets him.

 

They put all the leftovers they can find on the coffee table, and Castiel warms up a frozen pizza in their tiny oven. They drink mugs filled with a cocktail of Dean's invention, strong and sweet. And they kiss. Castiel feels like Dean is as addicted as he is, because they keep going for more, one more kiss, and one more, and again, just one. "Please." Dean begs, holding him close, reaching for his lips. Castiel begs, too. He had no pride left. He doesn't care.

 

Dean makes them something even stronger to take to bed. It's a mix of tea, and more whiskey, lemon and maple syrup, it's perfect. Castiel tries to protest, he tries, but Dean holds their mugs in one hand, grabs him, strong but soft, with the other, and drags him into his room. Into his bed.

"We should do this every year." Dean's voice is breaking a little. It's the alcohol, possibly. It's the lack of sleep after a day of work and a few hours on the road. It's the storm of feelings. 

Castiel isn't five anymore, but he kisses Dean, and he believes he steals his voice, moan after moan, he wants them, and he'll keep them forever.

Outside, the snow turns the day a weird shade of dirty white. Outside, people are certainly wearing stupid jumpers, exchanging gifts and having breakfast. Outside, the world is celebrating Christmas. 

Dean's sheets smell like him, the whole room smells like pine tree and Dean, and between one kiss and another, Castiel falls asleeps

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading !! You can find it (and me) on tumblr !!
> 
>  http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/135729671734/firewood
> 
> If you liked it, please leave a kudos and a comment ? It means a lot :)


End file.
